


A Pair of Hearts

by sockslost



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, F/F, Rizzles, Romance, soft, third person but basically from Jane's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-03-08 18:17:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13463835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sockslost/pseuds/sockslost
Summary: This story explores a world where Maura helps Jane come to the conclusion that she is asexual. And later how Jane and Maura navigate and build a relationship through that focal point. I would categorize this as ‘Serious Fluff’ – soft, romantic moments with a serious undertone. Not full of drama or angst.Note:  It’s a little non-canonical – I’ve ignored some things from the later seasons or twisted them around for my purposes.COMPLETE





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, not making money, etc. etc.

_Home._

Jane hasn’t spent more than a few nights there during the last two weeks. A double homicide on the heels of a case that was only growing colder left little room to dabble in casual amenities like hot meals, long showers, and sleep. Only now, as those cases have finally come to a close and all that’s left is paperwork, she pulls into the parking lot of her building for more than just a change of clothes and a five-minute shower.

She shifts into park but stays seated. Her whole body aches – from the steady pulsating pain behind her eyes, to the tension in her shoulders and lower back, all the way down to her feet. She knows she shouldn’t push herself so hard, knows she can’t keep doing this to her body forever. But, being aware of her short comings, and overcoming them are two very different things. She’s never been good with limits, especially not her own. And since Frost…everything is just that much harder.

She rests her forehead against the steering wheel.

It’s been years now, working cases without Frost’s steady presence, but it still feels new. There are some days where his absence catches her so off guard it leaves her breathless. She’ll turn in the middle of a sentence, finger half-raised towards the murder board, ready to ask him to work his magic – and her voice dies in the back of her throat and her heart sinks because  _oh._

These last few weeks have been filled with moments exactly like that, and her heart feels heavier than usual.

The car door swings wide as she opens it. She nearly sways on her feet as she stands and has to brace herself against the hood of the car for a moment before she can walk inside the building.

Darkness and silence are the only things that greet her as she opens the door to her apartment. Her blazer lands on the back of the couch. She kicks off her boots, untucks her shirt, and gently tosses her gear one piece at a time onto the coffee table. Her stomach growls, reminding her of the meals she’s skipped. She shuffles towards the kitchen pulling a bowl from one of the cabinets. She fills it with cereal and makes sure to sniff the milk before pouring it on top. Grabbing a beer, she settles onto the couch with a sigh. The cushions feel like heaven against her aching back. She scoops her spoon into her cereal as her mind drifts.

_This…is life._

She rests her head against the back of the couch, eyeing the ceiling wearily. She doesn’t know where this melancholy mood is coming from. She only knows she doesn’t have the energy tonight to stop the sadness from creeping up her spine. It settles, and burrows down deep inside her veins.

She swallows thickly as she stirs her cereal.

She should consider herself lucky.

These moments when her natural solitude and fierce independence collide with the demands of her job to create a disquiet so loud in her bones that it’s overwhelming – are rare. 

During the last few weeks she has spent more time with the dead than the living. She’s forgotten what it feels like to come home to nothing but quiet. It makes a part of her ache for something else – something like companionship, a ready to eat meal, and a warm smile. It’s a daydream she doesn’t allow herself to divulge in very often. It feels overly sentimental, overly emotional – something she knows she wants, but refuses to acknowledge that she does. Because she’s tried and failed in that arena too many times for her liking.

She’s not naïve enough to think that her personality has nothing to do with it. She’s brash. She’s reckless. She has too many sharp parts, is too rough around the edges, and has none of the will to polish, she knows.

But the job.

It always comes back to the job.

Being a cop is all Jane has wanted from life. Ever since career day in elementary school and seeing that officer in full regalia – something about the uniform, the presence, snagged her heart, much to the horror of her mother.

It’s been just over twenty years and she knows, despite the ache in her bones, she’s got another twenty left in her at the very least.

Sometimes, that thought is incredibly exciting. It’s amazing knowing she gets to wake up and live her childhood dreams.

But there are other times – like this moment where she sits alone in her dark living room after a taxing month – where the mere thought of just one more year is terrifyingly crushing. When gruesome case after gruesome case lands across her desk. When she has to explain to children and parents and brothers and sisters and best friends and spouses and so on and so on that something nefarious happened to their loved one. When the unit is on a losing streak. When they have more open cases than closed ones, and leads are few and far between.

The days can be hard, and the job wholly unforgiving.

There are not a whole lot of people that understand her position. They don’t know the details – the horror, and the absolute  _rightness_ that comes once justice is served.

She had thought Casey understood. They were cut from the same cloth, she thought. Both of them, _built to serve_ , but that doesn’t quite translate to  _built for relationships_. The seemingly never ending list of coworkers going through divorces and separations is proof enough.

It should’ve worked with Casey. But it didn’t. And she plays the years she wasted on him over and over in her mind, trying to pinpoint just where it was that things began to unravel, where she went wrong.

He was everything she was supposed to want. But didn’t.

He was tall, handsome, brave – the epitome of the prince in all of the stories her mother told her as a child. They spoke of nothing but handsome princes and beautiful princesses. The two always found each other, always fell madly in love in the blink of an eye.

But life – _real_ life – is not a fairy tale.

A fact she knew at a tender age when she could hear glass shattering in the kitchen and the raised voices of her parents arguing with each other night after night.

And maybe it was the missing authenticity in the words, but Jane has always been more interested in the thrilling heroics rather than the love story. She can remember sitting in her pink canopy bed, wide eyed and hopeful, as she asked question after question. She wanted to know everything – what his sword looked like, how heavy it was, how fast his noble steed galloped, if the dragon breathed fire, if the prince had help.

The questions were endless.

Action was something tangible, something she could easily understand. Whereas, even now, well into adulthood, the world of romance is one she doesn’t grasp so easily. It involves too many hidden messages, too many games, and she’s always felt as if she’s playing with a different rule book than everyone else.

The last time she dipped her toe into the dating world still burns in the back of her mind. She knows now, that what she felt for Casey was not love. At least, it wasn’t the kind of love her mother told her about.

The marriage proposal, the pregnancy, the miscarriage – it was nothing of a life she wanted, and yet one she found herself living. And here, at the end of it all, she’s still alone. With nothing to show for her trouble except even more trauma the department shrink had her unpacking for months before he finally cleared her. Again. 

The whole thing nearly derailed her life and her career, and she wants – _needs_ – to get everything back on track. She’s _still_ reeling from the experience.

Jane heaves a great sigh as she shakes her head. She doesn’t want to think about any of this. She doesn’t need to be digging up ghosts on top of all of the other thoughts going through her head tonight.

She pours her half-eaten bowl of cereal down the drain. She looks into her empty living room with a sigh. She shakes her head and heads toward her bedroom.

After her nightly routine, she pulls the covers down and slides under the cool sheets. She stares at her ceiling. Sometime in the middle of the night she falls into a restless slumber.

She wakes up an hour before her alarm in a cold sweat, her heart racing. The sheets are twisted around her body like a strait jacket. The last dredges of her nightmare spread at the forefront of her mind – she’s pinned down by something she can’t see and there’s a man with sandy hair, blue eyes, and a smirk leaning over her prone form. The image fades before she can fully grasp a face, but she’s had this nightmare enough to know it’s either Hoyt or Casey or some weird hybrid of the two. She pinches the bridge of her nose, as she tries to get her breathing under control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning for this thing to be five chapters. I have the first three fully written and edited, the last two are drafted - they need a bit of polishing though. I'm aiming to update once a week until it's finished.
> 
> This story makes me incredibly nervous to post. I've been working on it forever and I really I hope I got it right. I am asexual so if you have any questions or comments about asexuality you can always ask me here or over on tumblr under the name socks-lost thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a day early...
> 
> Thank you all so much for the kind reception! I'm happy to find I'm not the only one who views Jane as ace! Hope y'all like the rest I have to offer!

**Chapter Two**

The next night Jane and Maura are sitting on Maura’s couch indulging on wine and snacks. Decompressing with Maura is one of Jane’s favorite things, and she hopes they never stop. Tonight, however, her brain is scattered.

There’s something about the quiet way the house settles into the late hours of the evening that has Jane feeling a little reckless. She probably should’ve stopped after her first glass of wine, but now on glass number three she can feel the gears in her brain getting a little loose.

Thinking about Casey the night before, and waking up to nightmares more often than not for the past few weeks – has messed with her brain balance. Maura has always helped her find her equilibrium and she feels some of it coming back to her, though she still feels off kilter in some vital way.

Their last case was one they’ve seen many times before – a love triangle gone wrong – and Jane knows it won’t be the last time she sees a case like that before she retires, but it’s one of those things she’s never quite fully understood.

Finding and understanding the motive for murder is a difficult task in itself, but these types of cases always hold an extra air of mystery to her. 

Nothing is worth killing over – but money, drugs, gang life, murder to cover up something, and even anger, those motives make the most sense. But killing for love? Taking a life because  _if I can’t have them no one can_? That’s never made any sense to Jane. Just like cheating has never made any sense to her. If you’re that unhappy with the situation, just leave? But clearly, she’s missing some piece of the puzzle here, with how rampant the problem seems to be.

“Jane?”

She looks up at the sound of Maura’s voice.

Maura is sitting on the opposite side of her on the couch. She is in soft, flowy yoga pants and a purple V-neck t-shirt. Her hair is down and she looks so utterly relaxed that Jane feels her own body start to unwind just from sitting next to her.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Jane shakes her head with a sigh. She takes a sip of her wine. It lingers on her lips, she tastes it as she pokes her tongue out the corner of her mouth while carefully constructing a tower of crackers and cheese. “You know, out of all of the terrible motives for murder – love is the one I understand the least.”

“How so?” Maura glances her way carefully. She pulls her feet up underneath her and re-settles on the couch so she’s facing Jane.

“We have had  _so many_ cases  _exactly_ like this last one.”

“Yes, we have.”

“And, I just don’t get it. I mean, I understand the guy that comes home to find his wife sleeping with another man and in a fit of rage he kills them. I _don’t_ understand why the wife is cheating in the first place - if you’re that unhappy in your situation - leave.” 

“I agree.” Maura acknowledges, “though it may not always be so black and white.”

“Except it is…” Jane supplies grumpily.

Maura laughs, “I agree with you that cheating is bad, I’m just saying for some people there may be more at play.”

Jane gives Maura a look. “Is it really that difficult to just _talk_ to your partner though? Like if you’re _that_ unhappy?”

Maura raises an eyebrow in response.

“Fine.” Jane folds. She turns back to her cracker tower. “Or how about the people that get involved in affairs and then get upset when the person won’t leave their previous relationship? And they get _so_ upset that they’ll kill over it. I’ve been doing this a long time, Maura, and that’s one thing I don’t think I’ll ever get.” She glances at Maura who is looking at her thoughtfully, “and I mean, is the sex really that great that you’d be willing to kill for it?” She shrugs, taking another drink from her glass, “maybe it’s just me, but I’d be fine never having it again. So, I just don’t understand these people that literally resort to murder.” Her voice trails off as her fingertips pause while dropping the last cracker into place. It’s not what she had intended to say, but it’s out there now and she can’t do anything about that. She takes a large drink of her wine and stuffs her tower of crackers and cheeses into her mouth.

Maura doesn’t miss a beat. “Was Casey that unsatisfying for you?”

Jane nearly chokes.

She sits up abruptly, coughing crumbs across her lap and the floor. Maura scoots closer, and pats her back sympathetically. Jane shoots Maura a dirty look, “ _really?”_

Maura’s laugh is unexpected, but deep and rich. Warmth spreads through Jane’s chest as it washes over her – that laugh is something she hasn’t heard much of lately. Despite the blush in her cheeks, she wants to give herself a pat on the back in congratulations for making it happen. That warmth, however, is something Jane doesn’t want to think about.

Maura shrugs her shoulders innocently. “You started this conversation.” She delicately grabs a cracker and stacks a piece of cheese on top before popping it in her mouth, giving Jane a look that clearly says  _I’m waiting._

Jane swallows hard. She wishes the couch would grow sentient and suck her underneath the cushions. She sighs. “I mean…it’s not like it’s entirely unpleasant. It’s just…kind of… _eh_.” She shrugs, “nothing worth killing over.”

Maura raises her eyebrows and tilts her head sideways, “maybe you’re doing it wrong.”

Jane takes a big drink of her wine, holding back a laugh.

“Or maybe you should flip sides.”

Jane’s heart rapid fires in her chest, the grin she had worn evaporates completely. “I don’t think  _that_ is the problem.”

Maura’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “but you think there  _is_  a problem?”

Jane drops her hands to her thighs in frustration. “I don’t know. Yes…No…Maybe.” This isn’t where she thought this conversation would go. But it  _is_ something she’s thought a lot about. 

When the night is too loud and she wants nothing more than to have a warm body next to her – it passes through her mind that maybe there is something wrong with her. Maybe there is something inherently broken inside of her.

Because on those nights, the craving she has for another person is different. It’s not about sweat and skin. In fact, it very rarely turns into a sweat and skin thing, and when it does the fantasy derails. She’s never been able to get very far with her imagination in that regard. Instead, the craving she has is all about peace and comfort. It’s about having a soft, safe place to rest. And if she thinks too hard and too long the person in her mind always, somehow transforms into Maura. Because Maura is the embodiment of  _soft_ and  _safe._  

Jane doesn’t want to think about that. 

But _flipping sides_ isn’t the issue. It’s more like she’s never had a side to begin with. Because there’s just something _not_ there. That craving, an attraction of some sort – it’s a very specific thing that she doesn’t have a name for that she knows she’s missing. And, more importantly, she doesn’t know how to find it.

“Jane?” All of the laughter has gone from Maura’s face as she sits attentively by Jane’s side.

Jane takes a deep breath. How is she supposed to explain that when she doesn’t even understand what she means? “It’s not horrible…you know, sex. It’s nice.” She keeps her eyes focused on the coffee table in front of her. She _cannot_ look at Maura while she has this conversation. “I’ve just never seen what the fuss was all about. It’s not that Casey was… _bad._ It’s just always been that way. With everyone.” At this point Jane can feel Maura looking at her in a way that makes her nervous. She guzzles the rest of her wind, hoping somehow that will save her. “I know what he and I had wasn’t…real love. But he was so worried about being able to…you know…and all I wanted was to just be with him. I just wanted to hang out, catch up, and get to know each other again. That other stuff wasn’t anywhere near my radar until he brought it up. It’s never been anywhere near my radar. With anyone.”

Maura scoots closer to Jane on the couch. Their shoulders touch as Maura lays a soothing hand on Jane’s thigh. “It’s okay if you don’t care about romantic relationships, Jane, there are plenty of people who have amazing, fulfilling lives that don’t have or wish to have a significant other.”

“But that’s the thing. I  _want_ that.” Silence envelopes the room for a brief moment. It’s the first time that Jane has said those words out loud to anyone. It feels like a flag of surrender, yet something in Jane’s chest seems to break free at the admission. She can’t stop the words from coming, “that’s the thing. I want to come home to someone. I want to call someone and tell them I’m held up at work and I’ll be late to dinner. Or to watch the game with. Or,” she pushes and pulls at the scars on her palms, her voice quiet, “or to walk in late at night and curl up next to someone and just sleep. Listen to their heartbeat and know that things are okay. I’m just not…” Jane growls, frustrated at her lack of words to explain how she feels, “ _attracted_ to anyone. Like that. In the way that matters. The way that counts. That sounds so stupid, doesn’t it?” And here, she takes a chance, looking up at Maura for a brief moment.

Hazel eyes are soft and gentle, “no, it doesn’t.”

There’s something in the way Maura says those three words that makes Jane want to believe they’re true. Because if she just thought of the person that she’d want to be with for the long haul, the person she would want all of those things with – it would be Maura. But it’s complicated and difficult because she _knows_ she doesn’t desire Maura in _that_ physical way. She just knows that in those late hours, in those rare moments where she lets her mind go into that vulnerable place – Maura is there with a soft shoulder for her head to rest, and a gentle hand stroking down her arm. The image is vivid, but it never goes beyond that. Where does that leave her? She takes a deep breath and continues.

“It’s not like I’ve never thought about it. _Switching sides_ – I mean. It’s just never _felt_ right because I _don’t_ have a physical draw to women.” Jane shrugs, “but, after everything with Casey I realized that I don’t have that towards men either. I just assumed because I knew I wasn’t attracted that way to women then I must be toward men – but…I’m not. I don’t feel like that for anybody.” She shakes her head, “where does that leave me? It’s like I’ve never had a side to begin with.”

Jane stops talking then. Her heart feels like it’s in shards across the coffee table next to the mostly empty bottle of wine, pieces are spread across the smorgasbord of fancy cheeses and crackers. The silence stretches on for so long that Jane thinks maybe she’s crossed a line. That she’s pushed their boundaries too far this time. That she really is just broken and defective and wrong and that makes her eyes burn and her feet itch with a need to run. She wants to laugh this off. Make a joke out of it. But her mouth remains shut.

The soft touch to her thigh startles her. Dark brown eyes meet caring hazel. Maura is not looking at her like she’s broken. Instead, her eyes are kind and there’s a soft smile sitting just at the curve of her lips.

“Have you ever heard of asexuality, Jane?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about dragging this out, but it just felt right to move forward and that's just generally the way the story wanted to be written. I know that's a bit of a cliffhanger, but bear with me! Next one will be up next week! Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Jane blinks furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. The question throws her off balance. “Have I ever heard of _what?_ ”

“Asexuality.” Maura says slowly.

Jane raises an eyebrow. It’s a word she’s heard before, she’s sure of it, but it must have been in a high school science class. She has no idea what it has to do with what she had just said. “Like…plants?”

Maura shakes her head; her smile is soft and reassuring. It’s one of the things Jane loves the most about Maura. Maura never makes her feel inadequate for not knowing something. That has never felt so important until this moment. Maura pats Jane’s knee, and hops up from the couch. “Let me get my laptop.”

Jane shakes her head, still turning over the word _asexuality_ in her mind. She reaches for the wine bottle and tops off both of their glasses. She doesn’t know what Maura has in store for her but part of her thinks she may need this next glass.

When Maura comes back, she scoots the cheese board to the side of the coffee table and places her laptop in the center. As it boots up, she starts to talk, “asexuality is a sexuality –”

“Yeah, like reproducing on your own? Isn’t that what plants do?”

Maura tilts her head side to side, weighing her options, before answering. “That is one definition – yes. But what I’m referring to is asexuality in humans.” She leans forward and types the password for her computer and opens a web browser. “In humans – well, the definition can be a little grey, but generally speaking – asexuality means _not_ experiencing sexual attraction to anyone of any gender.”

It takes a moment for the full force of the words to sink in. Jane’s heart beats erratically in her chest as it finally hits. “That’s a thing?” She can’t help but blurt. She doesn’t know why, but she feels like something vital hinges on Maura’s answer to that question.

“It is!” Maura says excitedly. She types quickly against the keyboard; when she’s done she sits back and points to the computer screen.

Jane leans forward to read. Maura has opened up a search engine and has typed the word _asexuality_ into the search box. Links upon links fill the page. Titles like _what is asexuality_ and _how to tell if you’re asexual_ catch her eye. “Whoa.”

Maura nods. “There is a myriad of ways that we, as humans, experience sexuality. _Not_ experiencing those things, is just as valid – just as important – _as_ experiencing those things.”

Jane just blinks.

Her hesitation seems to sober Maura a little bit. She looks at Jane, all soft and serious. “I’m not going to tell you how to identify – but from what you described, I felt you should at least know about this.” She gestures to the computer screen. “You said you don’t feel attracted to people _in the way that counts_ , that you’re not physically drawn to anyone in particular, that you feel like you’ve never had a side to begin with, you’d be completely fine with never having sex again – those are common feelings that asexual people have.”

Jane blinks hard and fast. She swallows thickly as she tries to absorb Maura’s words. Her eyes roam all over the screen, her fingers itch to click all of the links and explore this world. She sits on her hands to keep them at bay. This makes more sense than anything she’s ever thought about herself before.

There has always been a blank space where her sexuality was concerned. She doesn’t know how else to describe it. There have been so many instances over the years where she just thought she was _weird_ or _damaged_ in some way and _that_ was why she never fawned over the men that everyone seemed to. Or the women. And to know that she isn’t any of that, that there is a word for her – she didn’t realize how much that blank space bothered her until there was possibility of an answer right in front of her. And now, all she wants to do is grab the laptop and shut herself away so she can finally solve the case of her sexuality. But she’s also terrified of what it means, what it _could_ mean. “That’s – that’s normal? Not experiencing…sexual attraction…that’s a thing?” _There are other people that are like this?_

Maura’s voice is firm and sure when she answers. “Yes.”

Jane let’s out a low breath as she falls back against the couch. Relief washes over her. The feeling is incredible. 

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but you sounded so…disheartened.” Maura says softly.

“Yeah, I…” Jane takes a deep breath, “I’ve never heard of asexuality…in humans before. So I had no idea that it was…that I could be… _that._ It’s kind of amazing, if I’m being honest.”

Maura smiles wide, “I’m glad you think so.”

“This may sound like a dumb question…”

“There are no dumb questions, and if I can’t answer it, we do have the internet.”

Jane fake-grimaces, “now you got me scared – a question _you_ don’t know the answer to?”

“It’s been known to happen.” Maura laughs before taking a sip of her wine. “Ask away.”

“So, can there be romance without sexual…stuff?”

“Of course.”

“Really? You didn’t even need google for that…”

“Well, it wasn’t a hard question. But, sex or _sexual stuff –_ as you say, can exist without romance, correct?”

Jane snorts, “duh.”

“Then wouldn’t it make sense that the opposite be true as well?”

Jane hesitates, “I guess.”

“There are many different types of relationships. For some, sex can be an incredibly important aspect of a romantic relationship. For others, it could be the complete opposite. It can also vary from relationship to relationship.” Maura tilts her head sideways, cracking a small smile. “Different strokes for different folks, as they say.”

Jane laughs, shoving Maura’s shoulder with her hand.

“Watch the wine!” Maura says laughing.

“What about you?” Jane asks suddenly shy. Jane knows whatever happens next hinges on Maura’s answer. It’s something she needs to know, if only to squash the image of cuddling up to Maura that pops into her mind at three am when she can’t sleep.

Suddenly, there’s possibility where there wasn’t any before. Asexuality is something she feels she will have to do more research on in her own time – the links that filled the laptop screen moments earlier call to her – but for now, Maura’s definition is enough. It makes the most sense. It feels the most _right_. And if romance and sex can be two separate things, if it’s okay to experience one set of feelings but not the other – then she needs to know how Maura feels.

It’s a lot to take in for such a short amount of time, and maybe the wine is fueling her fire, but she feels validated in a way that’s never happened before. Like it’s okay that she’s the way she is, it’s okay that she feels things the way she does. It’s difficult to explain, but it makes _so much sense._ She’s too buzzed, too happy, too excited to care about the consequences.

She just wants to know if she can have Maura the way she wants, in the way that she desires. She wants to know if what she has to offer is enough.

“For me? I think it depends on the person. I’ve had relationships where sex was the focal point, and I’ve had a few where it wasn’t rated quite so highly.” Maura places her wine glass on the coffee table. Jane watches as she steadies her hands and almost seems to steel herself for her next words. She looks directly into Jane’s eyes. “If the right person came along, I wouldn’t care about sex at all.”

There’s something in the deep hazel of Maura’s eyes that grabs Jane’s attention. It makes her keep the snap retort in the back of her throat. Maura’s cheeks are a rosy color and she holds eye contact for a fraction too long, like there’s supposed to be a message hidden somewhere in the space between them. “I’ve had too much wine to be talking in code, Maura. What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” Maura takes a deep breath, “I’m saying that if you were interested in me romantically, I wouldn’t care about sex.”

Jane’s heart beats quickly in her chest, hopeful possibility bursts insider her but it doesn’t shatter the doubt that lingers. “But it wouldn’t just be about sex. I’m not opposed to that. We could have sex, I’m sure with you it’d be a lot better than some of my experiences.” She laughs nervously, “but wouldn’t you want to be with someone who…finds you…sexually appealing?”

“Are you saying you’re interested?”

“I’m – yes.”

Maura smiles widely. “Then I wouldn’t care whether or not you found me attractive.”

“I mean I don’t _not_ think you’re attractive! You are…very pretty?”

Her fumbling makes Maura laugh and Jane finds herself smiling in spite of the anxiety racing through her veins. “I appreciate that you think so. And I believe the words you’re looking for are _aesthetically attractive._ ”

“Yes. That.” Jane nods.

“So you’ve,” Maura pauses. Jane can practically see the gears turning in her head as she thinks carefully about her next words. “You’ve thought about dating…me?”

This whole night has been such an eye-opening experience. The wine may have helped to loosen her tongue, because she knows under normal circumstances she is never this open. It’s something she needs to work on. There is a vulnerability interwoven in Maura’s question. Her eyes are downcast and she’s twisting the ring around her finger – a clear indication of nervousness. Jane has no option but to be honest. Wholly and completely.

“I don’t usually have…fantasies. But there have been times where,” she shakes her head opting to start over, “feelings are hard. All I know is that it’s just… _better_ when I’m with you. Everything.” She gives Maura a tumultuous smile, “when I think of the person I want to be with – you hit all the marks without even trying. I hate the men you go on dates with – even the harmless ones. I realized a long time ago that that’s probably not…normal. That my feelings go beyond a simple friendship. But I thought they _couldn’t_ be romantic because there wasn’t a physical component too. This conversation made me realize how _wrong_ I was about that. And I’m glad. Because everything makes so much more sense.” Jane bites her bottom lip. “But it-it also feels like a lot. Almost overwhelming, and maybe that’s too much? I would understand if you don’t want, well, all of this mess.” She laughs dryly, twisting her empty wine glass around in circles “but yes, I’ve thought about it.” When she’s done, Maura lunges for her.

The glass from Jane’s hand lands softly against the carpet as her arms wrap securely around Maura’s smaller frame. After a long moment, Maura pulls back a little. Her eyes are a bit misty. “And is dating something you’d like to try? Because it’s something that I would like to try.”

“You don’t think it would mess up our friendship?” She’s hoping Maura will say that it won’t because now that she has this woman in her arms, she really likes the way that it feels.

Maura laughs, shaking her head, “I don’t see how _anything_ could damage our friendship after all of the things we’ve been through together, by this point, do you?”

“You make a good point.” Jane laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot happened here! Next chapter will be up next week! As an aside, I have been exactly where Jane is here (just minus the Maura lol) and realizing that asexuality is a thing was one of the greatest discoveries for me. It's also a really difficult feeling to articulate, but I hope I did well here.
> 
> I want to thank all of you so much for the response to this! I was (and still am, let's be real) very nervous about sharing this and it makes me happy that so many people are open to the idea of an ace story line and open to learning and having a discussion. There's a website called asexualityarchive dot com that has a really good Ace 101 section if anyone's interested. Thank you all so much!


	4. Chapter 4

“Aren’t you two a little old to be sleeping on the couch?”

Jane blinks a bleary eye at her mother.

Barely there sunlight streams through the living room through the closed curtains. Her quick retort is swallowed by the groan she emits when she sits up from her half-lying down position on the couch. She turns her head side to side, stretching out the stiffness in her muscles. She’s loath to admit it, but her mother may be on to something. She gives a big yawn and turns tiredly to look at her companion on the opposite end of the couch. She catches herself grinning.

Maura is not faring much better. Jane watches halfway amused, halfway feeling…something else. Something she doesn’t have a name for but it’s pleasant, and warm.

Maura struggles to sit up, almost groaning as she rubs her lower back. Strands of her hair stick up at the back where her head rested against the arm of the couch while she slept. Her eyes are puffy and tired. 

They fell asleep sometime after their conversation.

When the weight of their words became too heavy and the processing started to take a fraction longer, leaving silence in place of words – they had turned towards the TV. They sat next to each other, hip to hip, and watched contestants on a reality show battle it out. They finished the wine and the snacks. It was all very _normal._

As if they didn’t just decide to change everything.

As if they didn’t just decide to _date._

Now, Jane feels the weight of that expectation settle across her shoulders.

This is brand new territory.

She has done incredibly dangerous, incredibly stupid things. She has come out on the winning side more often than not, even with the odds stacked against her. She has never been too afraid of the risk. That’s never bothered her until now. She has so much more to lose if this gamble doesn’t fall to her side.

It occurs to her now, how difficult it is for her to talk about _feelings._ She has built a home inside the walls of a sarcastic comment and a quick quip. Free and open communication is just not something she _does._ And, by association, it’s not something _they_ do. 

Now, in the light of day with her mother puttering around in Maura’s kitchen she feels vulnerable in a way she hadn’t expected. It’s like she can breathe clearly for the first time in a long time, but also like she’s barely got her head above water at the same time. It’s strange and disorienting.

She is not used to this.

More importantly, she doesn’t know where they go from here.

Dating usually entails getting to know the other person, but what do you do when you _already_ know them?

Jane doesn’t know if it’s actually overly complicated, or if her brain is just making it seem that way. She feels something looming – ominous and threatening – just behind her shoulder and she doesn’t know how _not_ to feel that way. She doesn’t know how _not_ to feel like this thing – whatever it _is_ – is somehow already destined to fail.

The thought is not a good one. Her breath catches in her chest for a brief second, but just as her anxiety reaches a peak, Maura lightly touches her thigh.

Their eyes meet. Jane reads concern written all over Maura’s features, and that sense of dread she has lessens considerably.

Jane stands and offers Maura a hand up. Their touch lasts a bit longer than usual, and Jane finds she wants to explore that. She wants to tuck the loose strand of hair behind Maura’s ear, and pull her close in a long drawn out hug. It’s not a feeling she’s had before. In one evening, those ideas that cross her mind in the darkest parts of the night no longer fit in their designated boxes. She doesn’t want them to, either. She’s grateful for the newfound freedom.

Just as she reaches toward that strand of hair, the clatter in the kitchen startles her. Despite the desire to explore these new feelings she doesn’t want to do it with an audience. Especially when that audience is her mother. She drops her hand softly back to her side and gives Maura a soft smile instead before turning towards the noise.

Jane walks into the kitchen and kisses her mother on the cheek. “And isn’t it a little too early for you to be making appearances?” She mumbles before going straight to the coffee machine.

“I knew it was just you, I saw your car.” Angela says while pulling out pots and pans getting ready to make them breakfast.

Jane rolls her eyes and excuses herself to the bathroom to freshen up. When she walks back into the kitchen Maura is standing next to her mother by the stove. She too had gone upstairs for a bit and was now in linen pants and a flowy button up with the sleeves rolled to her elbows.

Jane stands in the doorway watching Maura as she talks animatedly with her mother. They’re both in aprons and Angela has let Maura help with the preparations. It’s a moment Jane has seen many times, but somehow it feels different this time.

She’s always known that eventually - inevitably - Maura would find someone to settle down with. They would be brought to Christmas parties and Sunday dinner. There wouldn’t be time for _them_ anymore - for her and Maura. Everything would change. It was a quiet fear, one that never really made sense to her, because of course Maura would find someone. She was the catch of the century. But the thought of moving to second position in Maura’s life, of being replaced by a stranger, of not being able to have Maura in her back pocket left her feeling unsettled, irritable, and discontent.

It makes sense to her now. And here, in this moment, a peace settles in her bones.

Maura smiles at her across the space separating them as she stirs the batter in the bowl in her arms. Her cheeks are a faint red and her eyes are brighter than Jane has ever seen.

The clouds hanging over Jane’s shoulder disperse, making way for sunshine to cast a glow. They have faced incredible, traumatic things together.

And they are still here.

Still together.

She doesn’t know where they go from here, or what the path will hold, but she wants to make this work more than she’s wanted anything.

…

“We need to talk about boundaries.” Maura states boldly.

It’s late in the evening and they are sitting on Maura’s couch, again. The couch is a base point for everything, Jane has found. There is something in the way their bodies sink into the cushions, in the homely feel the dim lights from the lamps cast off that makes her feel settled in a way that her own apartment severely lacks. Or maybe it’s the just the company.

Either way, the comfort she is feeling does nothing to dwindle the way Maura’s statement boldly slaps her across the face. _Here they go talking again_. She knows it’s necessary but _god_ just the thought of saying _more_ things has Jane feeling a little edgy.

Maura rings her hands, “even if -”

“I wasn’t apparently asexual?” Jane finishes with a snort.

Maura hums. “I would still want to have this discussion. Boundaries are important.” Maura’s voice turns quiet, “besides, this...this is too important to mess up because of a miscommunication. I love you too much to take that risk.” By the time she’s finished her voice is barely audible, and she refuses to meet Jane’s eyes.

Jane leans forward across the small space separating them. Maura’s timid demeanor makes Jane forget about wanting to brush this off. She places her hand on Maura’s thigh, “Maura,” it feels like an eternity until Maura’s eyes look back at her, “this is really important to me too. I don’t want to mess it up either.” Maura smiles and her shoulders relax a little. Jane doesn’t move her hand. “So how do we - where do we start?”

Maura bites her bottom lip. After a moment, she laughs, “I’m not sure.”

Jane raises her brows and sits back with a laugh, “well aren’t we a pair.”

“I’d like to think we make a good one.” Maura says quietly.

“We do.”

“You sound very sure of that.”

“I mean, just look at our closure rate - we’re clearly the best.”

“Clearly.” Maura takes a sip of her wine, “well, I guess the obvious question would be - what are you comfortable with?”

Jane huffs, “well, that’s kind of a loaded question isn’t it?”

Maura smiles kindly, “I think it’s meant to be.”

They are silent for a moment while Jane thinks. _Too important to mess up,_ she chants in her head, _this is too important to shrug off or dismiss. You can_ not _shove this under a rug and hope for the best, you have to confront._ Jane spins the liquid in her own wine glass. She watches the deep red swirl in infinite circles. _What am I comfortable with?_ She thinks for a moment. _Whatever you’ll give me?_ She shakes her head. “There are a lot of things I’ve never liked.”

Maura sits quietly next to her, but Jane can feel herself being scrutinized. She looks over and sure enough Maura is staring intently and her brow is creased adorably. Jane can practically hear the gears turning in her head, ready to digest whatever comes out of her mouth next.

“It’s just,” Jane glances away, back to her own wine glass, “I don’t know if the things I didn’t like were because of the men I was dating or if it was because of this...asexuality...situation or if it’s because of - I don’t know any number of the _thousand_ ways I’m messed up.”

“You’re not messed up.” Maura says firmly.

Jane shakes her head doubtful, “feels like it sometimes.”

“I know,” Maura says quietly, “but you’re not. Everyone has baggage.”

Jane sighs, “this is hard.”

Maura’s brows furrow.

“Talking.” Jane clarifies with a self-deprecating grin.

Maura laughs.

Jane takes a deep breath and dives in. “Like, sex isn’t off the table but it’s not really something I think about. Everything else is just...like I didn’t like holding hands with Casey or Dean. But holding yours sounds nice. Cuddling,” even the word feels unfamiliar rolling off her tongue, “was practically...non-existent in all of my relationships but with you the idea is...ridiculously appealing.” Jane voice is a mumble at the end of her sentence. She swallows most of her wine right after. Her face is hot and she knows her neck is flushed and underneath her hair her ears are red in embarrassment. She’s afraid to look at Maura, but chances a glance out of the corner of her eye after a moment. She is met with the biggest smile she’s ever seen. Her own shoulders relax a little. “What about you?”

Maura blinks.

“Boundaries are important, I love you too much to mess this up.” Jane repeats Maura’s earlier statement with a grin. “So, tell me.”

“I don’t think you’re so bad at this talking thing. You’re doing great.” Maura sighs happily. “I’m okay with never having sex. Like I said last night, if I was with the right person sex wouldn’t matter at all. Those weren’t just words. I can always…take care of things myself.” She gives Jane a knowing look, and they both laugh. “I’m happy that you like the idea of cuddling because I do too. What about kissing?”

Both of their faces are red when the question hits.

“I like it.” Jane answers shyly, after a moment. _Maura doesn’t have scruff,_ her mind reminds her and she thinks she’d probably like kissing Maura a whole lot more than she liked kissing the men she’s dated.

Maura grins, and Jane gives an answering smile of her own as she relaxes further into the couch cushions.


	5. Chapter 5

Jane grins as she waits for the elevator. The work week has been slow since she’s been off rotation. She has spent more time at her desk aimlessly doodling on her stack of post-its and trying not to think about Maura while she works on her remaining open cases. At quitting time, she decides to call it a night. She has plans after all.

The transition from _friends_ to _girlfriends_ has surprisingly been easy. It was shocking at first, but not much in the way of things have changed between them. They’ve always spent more time together than apart, and now the time they spend together isn’t laced with something unknown and unnamed. There’s no tension. They just get to _be_ with each other, knowing that there is a shared commitment now. Somehow that makes so much of a difference when it comes to comfort.

Jane knows Maura feels the same way. She can feel it in Maura’s smile, see it in her eyes.

Their progress to this different kind of relationship is slow, yet, essential and perfect for them.

...

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. There’s really no pressure, Jane.”

They are standing in front of Maura’s couch. Dinner has been eaten, and this is a natural progression, but like everything else it feels like such a big hurdle to Jane and she knows that it shouldn’t. She tries to push the shame and embarrassment she feels about it to the back of her mind but it’s hard.

She _wants_ to do this.

Over the last few days, they’ve grown more and more comfortable with touch. An extended hug at the door. An arm draped over the couch. Thighs touching, knees knocking. Hands reaching. It’s so new and so _weird_ but in the best way, because for Jane at least, every little bit _means_ something.

The night before Jane had nervously put her arm around Maura’s shoulders. Maura had smiled, not looking at Jane but still facing the television. She had leaned into Jane just _that_ much more, wrapped her own arm around Jane’s middle, and it was perfect and lovely and Jane wanted more.

She hadn’t realized until then how _afraid_ she had become of touching Maura over the years. She could remember reaching for her early on in their friendship, but something happened. Something changed. She doesn’t know if it was due to life circumstances or the need to press down the thoughts about Maura she knew she shouldn’t have, but now, now she regrets it completely.

Jane loves this woman in a completely unexpected way and wants to hold her.

But she doesn’t know how.

Suddenly, she feels too lanky, too bony, too much of a person and her heart keeps tripping over itself. A heady mix of shame and want war inside her mind. “I want to.”

“But…?”

“I don’t know how?” The admission makes Jane’s throat close up unexpectedly. Her face is unnecessarily hot and her eyes are burning suspiciously like they may soon begin to tear. But a warm comforting hand encloses her wrist.

“We can learn together.”

…

“Would you rather hold me or be held?” Jane gives her a funny look. Maura smiles. “Just because you’re taller doesn’t mean you must always be the big spoon.” She says sweetly.

Jane laughs. “I - I want to hold you. At first.”

Maura smiles again and squeezes Jane’s hand. “Okay. Lie down.”

Jane takes a deep breath and does as she’s told. She settles on the couch, her head resting against the arm rest and one of the throw pillows. Her feet are propped up against the opposite side, ankles crossed.

“Are you comfortable?”

Jane nods.

“Uncross your legs so there’s room for me, please.”

Jane takes a steadying breath knowing what’s going to come next as she lets one leg fall to the floor. “Okay.”

Maura let’s her eyes roam over the detective lying on the couch. Jane looks a little apprehensive, but Maura can tell she wants to do this as badly as she does. Slowly, she eases onto the couch. Her hips finding a place effortlessly between Jane’s. She lies down until her back is pressed to Jane’s front. The woman beneath her is stiff, all tense muscle and tightly wound. Her warm breath hits Maura’s ear and makes her shiver. She presses a hand to Jane’s thigh and gives a small, experimental squeeze. “Honey, relax.”

Jane wants to roll her eyes. _Relax._ How is she supposed to relax? This is something she’s never done before and her brain keeps sending her signals to move and touch – it has her paralyzed. “I’m sorry…I’m not very good at this.”

“You’re doing fine. This is nice.” She says honestly. “I’m not crushing you, am I?”

Jane laughs, “no, never.”

“Good.”

They are quiet for a moment. Finally, Jane gathers enough of her brain cells together to move. She brings the leg from the floor back to the couch, cradling Maura further into her embrace. After much indecision, she finally brings her arms into play, completely wrapping around Maura’s mid-section. Her heart is beating too fast and she has to remind herself to breathe. She loves this. Completely unexpectedly, she loves this. The real thing is much better than anything she could have ever imagined.

“It’s...intimate.” She finally says.

Maura nods. “It is.” Despite that it’s not exactly the way Maura may have envisioned this, everything about it is perfect. Jane has never been the overly physical type. Maura can see how sex could almost be easier than this. She listens intently as the heart beneath her ear begins to ease into a slower, steadier pace. She sighs softly and turns a little in Jane’s arms when she tightens her hold. And the word _intimate_ pops into her mind again, because it _is._ She gently places her hands over Jane’s on her midsection and smiles.

Jane turns her nose to Maura’s hairline, breathing her in. “You smell good.”

Long moments pass by in comfortable silence, until Jane finally speaks. Her voice is soft and quiet. “How long have you felt this way?” Her question is punctuated with a soft stroke down Maura’s bare arm. She doesn’t know why she hasn’t thought to ask that until now. Maura seems too comfortable with her own feelings for them to be new, which leads Jane to believe that Maura has held this tightly to her chest for a while now.

Maura doesn’t answer, but Jane can feel her tense. Jane shifts so she’s holding her more tenderly. She fans her right hand across Maura’s abdomen and moves her thumb back and forth over the thin fabric of her shirt. She intertwines the fingers of her left hand with Maura’s and gives a gentle squeeze. She’s trying to convey with her body that whatever Maura’s answer is, that it’s okay. “How long, Maura?” She repeats. 

“A while.” Maura finally answers, her voice soft and shy almost.

“How long is a while?”

More silence. She plays with Jane’s fingers, and Jane let’s her. “Years.” Then quietly, “maybe forever?”

Jane’s heart tugs in her chest. She’s glad that Maura is facing away from her and can’t see her face. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Maura sighs, her voice so quiet when she speaks Jane can barely hear her, “why would I?”

Jane closes her eyes, turning into Maura’s hairline and breathing her in. She holds her just a bit tighter. “Did I make you feel like you couldn’t?” She doesn’t want to ask it, but she needs to.

“Jane.”

“Did I, Maura?”

Maura is quiet for a moment. She plays slowly with Jane’s fingers, using her index finger to trace up and down each of Jane’s. Jane let’s her have the distraction. “You’re my best friend.” She says finally. “I didn’t want to lose that. I don’t. And I didn’t think – I _never_ thought this could ever be a possibility.” She shakes her head, “watching you with Casey was a nightmare.”

“ _Being_ with Casey was a nightmare.”

“Then why?”

Jane hums, “it was easier than facing the truth.”

“Which was?”

“That I wasn’t attracted to him, to men in general.” She sighs. The fingers not in Maura’s grasp begin to trace a mindless pattern against Maura’s ribs over her top. She can feel the warmth of her skin through the thin shirt she’s wearing. The words _soft_ and _safe_ reverberate in her mind again. That’s exactly what this moment feels like. “You know, I’ve looked up more about being asexual.”

“You have?” The surprise is evident in Maura’s voice.

Jane smiles into her neck as she nods, “I think I really like it.” She brings both of her arms around Maura’s middle and gives the woman a gentle squeeze. “Thank you.”


	6. Chapter 6

Jane looks at Maura over the rim of her coffee cup, a content smile on her face. She’s never been this happy before. Well and truly. She had no idea that it could be this good. She had no idea how to explain it.

There was an understated simplicity about it. Just being, existing in the same space as Maura feels intimate and romantic in and of itself. It was so easy to fall into a routine. Jane has never had that with anyone before. It’s something she never knew she would crave in a relationship.

Maura makes the coffee. Jane makes the scrambled eggs. They move around each other in the kitchen perfectly in sync. A hand on a hip asking to move over, gentle smiles, Jane reaching over Maura to get something from a high shelf. And, Jane’s favorite part, the small kisses in exchange for thank you’s.

It’s so incredibly easy and natural. Jane feels like she’s falling in love for the first time in her life. It’s so different than anything she’s been used to.

She loves watching Maura get ready in the mornings. The way she brushes the make-up across her face, how her fingers curl delicately around the brushes and her eyes scrunch up when she’s applying lipstick. She loves sitting on the couch with her when it’s late and black frames are perched at the end of Maura’s nose while she reads a journal.

There is something so beautiful and simple and domestic happening here and she doesn’t want it to stop.

She wants this.

She wants this forever.

That thought has never ever occurred to her about a relationship before.

…

Maura laughs at Jane’s scowl. They are sitting in the middle of Maura’s living room sorting the laundry. The clothing pile has far more V-neck shirts and socks than she’s used to, and it makes Maura smile wide. More and more of Jane’s things have wound up at her house to the point that the detective has practically moved in. They’ve been dating for a few weeks now. It’s been refreshingly slow. Maura never knew how much she could love these domestic chores when she had someone she loved to do them with.

Jane throws a pink sock at her. “It’s not funny!”

Maura can’t help but laugh once more, “this is why you need to sort the laundry before just throwing it all in there.”

“Ugh,” Jane rolls her eyes, “that takes _so_ much time.”

“Well,” Maura holds up what used to be a white shirt, “if you don’t want this to keep happening...”

Jane throws another sock.

“If you keep doing that, you’re going to lose even _more_ of your socks.”

Jane glares, “it’s not my fault that your dryer keeps _eating_ them.”

Maura laughs again. She gets on her knees and leans over the pile on the floor between them. “I promise, I’ll buy you more.”

Jane raises an eyebrow but says nothing, it’s always hard for her to make words when Maura is this close. She puts her hands on either side of Maura’s face and brings her closer. The kiss is almost ruined because they can’t stop smiling.

With Jane’s hands still on her face, Maura maneuvers over the laundry and settles in Jane’s lap. Jane wraps her arms around Maura’s waist, pulling her closer. Maura’s fingers tangle in Jane’s hair, while one of Jane’s hands snakes under her sweater.

Neither of them knows how long they stay in that position before a gentle cough interrupts them. They both look to the doorway, slightly breathless and flushed.

Angela stands in the doorway with a brown bag of groceries in one arm and a raised eyebrow. “Well, this is new.” She says slowly.

Maura drops her forehead to Jane’s shoulder. To her delight, Jane does not retreat.

“It’s not.” Jane says simply. Her arms are securely around Maura’s waist and she knows there is no claiming that this isn’t what it is. To her surprise she doesn’t even want to. No, she’s in love with this woman and she wants to shout it from the rooftops.

Both of Angela’s eyebrows rise at that, “oh? And just how long has this,” she gestures at them on the floor, “been going on?”

Jane shrugs, “a few weeks.”

“Why am I always the last one to know?”

“No one knows.”

“And why are you trying to keep your relationship secret, then?” Angela questions accusingly. She walks into the house, completely ignoring Jane’s pointed glare, and goes straight for the kitchen. She sets the bag down.

“We’re not _hiding._ ”

“Maura is a catch. You should be so lucky.” Angela said while tying her apron.

Maura can’t help but laugh, into Jane’s shoulder. “Yeah, Jane you should be so lucky.” She whispers.

Jane looks down at her, giving her side a squeeze and a lop sided grin. “The luckiest.”

“I feel pretty lucky too.”

“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to tell everyone tonight. It’s the first game of the season and you know how the boys like Maura’s big, shiny, flat screen.”

Jane groans.

“Now, quit necking and finish your laundry so you can help me make meatballs.”

“Ma!”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I want to say I’m sorry about the humongous delay! *insert ‘it’s been 84 years’ gif* Things happened and then I either didn’t have the time or I didn’t have the energy to be creative. But anyway, it’s done now! Woo! And I just wanted to say a few things. 
> 
> I know the ending is a little cheesy. Some people probably wanted more angst, but I’m not much of an angst writer. And this story in particular hits very close to home, and I just wanted something happy. And sometimes you just need to write the story that you need to hear – that’s what I did. And maybe someone else needed to hear it too.
> 
> This story has been in the making for a very long time. I have files upon files of different versions of this same story all over my hard drive. Literally thousands of words have gone into this, and you’ve probably not even read half of them. I wanted this story to be good. I wanted to do it right. I wanted it to matter. And I put a lot of pressure on myself for that to happen. 
> 
> Ultimately, this story is not perfect. It is however, my honest to god, absolute best effort and you have no idea how incredibly terrifying admitting that is. 
> 
> But I like it. (And that’s hard to admit also, but I do. I really do.)
> 
> And enough people have come to me telling me that it helped them in some way that I know that the effort I put in was worth it. Unequivocally. One hundred percent. Worth it. 
> 
> Lastly, I just want to say thank you for reading this story, and coming on this journey with me. Your words mean so, so much to me.


End file.
